Canada's French Colonization
by JaiDLacey
Summary: The colonization of America and Canada, and the creation of Sealand. Essentially, the history of the FACES family.
1. Canada's French Colonization

Canada's Discovery: 1534

_Why is it so cold? I can barely see…_The only source of warmth was a small white creature in my arms.

The creature shifted, then twisted up in my arms to look at my face. He (I assumed it was a he) smiled at me, and I smiled back gently. "I'll call you Kumajirou," I said. My voice was obviously a little loud for his sensitive ears, so I repeated myself, this time in a whisper. "I'll call you Kumajirou."

I didn't bother keeping track of the time. There was no point; it was only me and Kumajirou. He taught me how to catch fish and keep warm by digging in the snow and building a small hut. In exchange, I taught myself how to make maple syrup so that every so often we could have a sugary treat. I got into the habit of whispering so softly I could barely hear myself, simply because Kumajirou's ears were so sensitive that he could hear me humming from half a mile away.

One day, I heard voices. It was the first time I had heard a human voice besides my own. Kumajirou was startled, which in turn made me a little bit frightened. I picked him up and together we snuggled close inside the snow hut. The voices became louder.

"I do not understand, _Angleterre_," one of the voices said. "You are ze one 'ooz wezzer is always miserable, so why are you complaining about ze cold?"

"It is _never_ this cold in my country!" Another, higher-pitched voice shrieked. "And my weather is _not_ miserable; it is simply temperamental."

"Mmhmm, sure," the first voice replied. Both voices became silent as their crunching footsteps came closer.

"What is this?" The higher-pitched voice asked.

The first voice mused, "It looks like a small 'ouse, small enough for a child."

I squeezed Kumajirou tighter and pulled away from the entrance to our snow hut, my heart racing.

A face appeared in the entrance. It was a handsome face, a tiny bit feminine, framed by long, soft-looking blond hair. The only thing that made me think it was a male was the strong chin with a light 5 o'clock shadow.

The man's eyes lit up and a smile creased his face. He pulled away from the entrance and said loudly, "_Angleterre_, it _is_ a child!"

I flinched, having become used to my own quiet voice and the soft sounds of the barren iceland that was my home. Kumajirou also flinched, burying his small face in my chest.

Another face appeared in the entrance, this one much more frightening than the last. The most prominent features were his huge eyebrows, which his sandy blonde bangs did absolutely nothing to hide. He didn't smile when he caught sight of me, rather his huge brows drew together, giving his face a worried look. He drew away slowly, never taking his eyes off of me.

"What is that creature?" He asked the other man. I supposed that was what they thought was a whisper, but Kumajirou had trained me to be able to hear a fish jumping out of the water 50 feet away from the shore.

"It's probably a native animal," the one with the lengthy hair answered.

"It's a polar bear," I tried to tell them. "His name is Kumajirou."

They didn't hear me. I tried again, a little bit louder. Still, it seemed as though my voice was too soft for them to notice.

Gathering up my courage, I crawled toward the opening of the snow hut, clutching Kumajirou close to my heart. Both the men stared, obviously startled, when I emerged. I took a long look at the both of them, just in case I would ever need to recognize them.

The 5 o'clock shadow man was tall and lean and very good looking. His blond locks fell freely around a face that I instantly felt I could trust. He was wearing something that looked completely out of place against the white glare of the snow. It was bright blue and rather frilly as well. I shook my head at the fact that he wasn't wearing a heavy coat or a scarf or anything that would protect him from the freezing cold or the blistering wind.

The man with the eyebrows was much smaller than 5 o'clock shadow man. He was wearing an olive green uniform—_military_, my instincts told me—and he was glaring at Kumajirou the same way that a seal glares at a polar bear in the moments before it gets eaten. In a vain attempt to comfort him, I smiled and held out Kumajirou. With a shriek loud enough to wake the seals beneath the ice, he jumped backward and promptly fell on his bottom.

"Did you see that?!" He shrieked at the other man, who was doubled over with laughter. "He tried to attack me! This is_ not_ a laughing matter!"

I, too, was giggling softly, and even Kumajirou seemed to be smiling at the small man's panic. With a huff, the man picked himself up and began dusting snow off his uniform.

Still choking back laughter, I turned to the taller man and offered him Kumajirou. He reacted much better than the little one, reaching out and scooping Kuma up without hesitation, cradling him in his blue-clad arms.

"His name is Kumajirou," I tried to tell the man.

He looked at me for a second before saying gently, "_Bien-aimée_, you must speak louder. I cannot 'ear you."

I sighed, then repeated in a much louder voice, "His name is Kumajirou."

"Ah," he smiled. "Kumajirou, eh? You are adorable, aren't you?"

The man in the green stared at us for a second before sighing and picking a bag up off the ground. "You can have him, if you want, France," he sighed.

I cocked my head to the left, confused. The man gave Kumajirou back to me before turning to the other one. I hugged Kuma tight as they began to speak.

"Are you sure, Arthur?" the tall one—France—asked.

"Yes, I am sure Francis," the small one—Arthur—replied sharply. "It's much too cold up here for my liking and besides, I don't trust that animal."

I looked down at Kumajirou, trying to see why Arthur didn't like him. He seemed the same as always, with soft white fur and shining black eyes. He was cute, not scary.

"Oh, well," I murmured, squeezing Kuma lightly. _Maybe it's a good thing, _my mind whispered. _This Arthur fellow doesn't seem very nice._

I looked up to see Arthur walking away slowly. Francis watched him go, melancholy painting his fine features.

After a few seconds, France seemed to shake whatever was bothering him away. He turned back to me with a smile. "'Ate to see zem go, love to watch zem walk away, _oui_?" I had no idea what he meant, so I simply nodded in ignorant agreement.

France smiled wider at my nodding, seemingly pleased with my answer. "You and I, little one, I believe are going to be very good friends." He picked me up easily and started carrying me in the same direction Arthur had walked a few moments before. I had no idea where we were going, nor any clue as to why we had to leave, but I trusted this man, France.


	2. America's British Colonization

America's Discovery: 1607

I shifted slightly, groaning as the sunlight finally penetrated my eyelids. With a sigh, I rolled out of my hammock and onto the soft forest floor. I stood up and stretched, then waved up at the sky. "Good morning Tony!" I called to my little green friend. I knew he couldn't see or hear me, but that didn't matter to me.

With a sigh, I began my morning routine: Starting a fire, roasting nuts that I had found the night before, using the broken shells to scrape that icky stuff off my teeth, then grabbing my animal skin pants and heading down to the river to bathe.

As I was splashing around, enjoying the fact that the salmon weren't here yet, I heard a noise. It was a noise I had never heard before. It sounded like a human voice.

I whirled around, expecting to see some gigantic man wading through the stream, coming to eat me up, but instead it was a rather small man with huge eyebrows that scared the living daylights out of me. However, Tony had taught me that you should never fear the unknown, so I threw out my tiny chest and asked boldly, "Who goes there?"

The man stared at me before answering, "Who are you?"

I crossed my arms stubbornly. "I asked first."

He frowned. "But I'm bigger, and I have a boat."

I couldn't argue with that logic. Uncrossing my arms, I waded over to the shore and pulled on my clothes. When I was dressed, I turned back to the stranger and said proudly, "I'm America!"

He looked at me kinda weird, so I repeated, a bit softer, "I'm America."

He nodded slowly. "Well, America, it's nice to meet you. My name is England, but you can call me Arthur." He held out his hand, but I completely ignored it, choosing instead to grin and say, "Artie!"

He shook his head. "No, America, my name is Arthur."

My eyebrows drew together. "You just said your name was England, which means Arthur is a nickname. So why can't you have _two _nicknames?"

He thought for a moment before smiling at me. "What I mean to say is, most people know me as England, but some people call me Arthur. I would like it if you called me Arthur too."

I grinned happily. "Ok, Arthur. I have two names too. One is America, and the other is Alfred. If I get to call you Arthur, you should call me Alfred."

He looked surprised, then immensely pleased. "Alright, Alfred. Would you like to come with me back to my house?"

I nodded excitedly. "That would be awesome!" As I clambered into his boat gracelessly, I had to ask, "Why do you talk so funny?"

Arthur smiled down at me as I settled into the small boat. "Where I come from, you would be the one who talks funny," he told me.

I giggled, and soon we were on our way back to Arthur's house.


	3. Canada's British Colonization

Canada's British Colonization: 1763

I was sitting in the back of the carriage sobbing. Papa France had told me he could no longer afford to keep me, so I would be going to live with England for a while. "It is alright, _bien-aimée_," he tried to comfort me. "Whenever you feel 'omesick, you will sing Kumajirou a French lullaby, _oui_?"

I nodded tearfully.

"Alright, _bien-aimée_," he said as we pulled up in front of England's house. "Be strong for me ok?"

I nodded again.

He smiled tiredly at me. "You know I do not want to do zis, _bien-aimée_."

I nodded once more.

He brushed my blond locks away from my face and planted a kiss on my forehead. "_Je t'aime, bien-aimée_," he murmured.

"_Je t'aime_," I whispered back. With one last farewell, I grabbed Kumajirou and my bags and stepped out of the carriage. I watched as Papa France drove away, and kept watching until he was out of sight.

With a sigh, I squared my shoulders and marched up to the front door, trying to be brave like America would be. I set down one of my bags to knock on the door, but it was flung open before my knuckles touched the polished wood.

"Oh, hey Canada!" America said, loud and assertive as always. "Come on in!"

I smiled my thanks and picked up my bag, making my way inside.

England looked up from his seat on the sofa. "Oh, hello, Matthew," he greeted me.

"Hello," I said quietly in return.

England smiled at me, but it was an empty smile, like the one you see on children's toys. "Alfred, show Matthew to his room please," he yelled to America.

America popped his head in the doorway and rolled his eyes. "Canada's been here before, Dad, he knows where his room is."

England frowned. "Matthew hasn't been here before…has he?"

America laughed outright. "You're getting old, Dad, your memory is getting hazy."

England glared at him. "I am _not _getting old, Alfred, and you make one more rude comment directed toward me and I will ground you, do you hear me?"

America nodded, already halfway up the stairs. "Yes, I hear you, Dad."

I smiled timidly at England, who returned the smile politely before delicately sipping his tea.

With an internal sigh, I shifted Kuma in my arms and followed America up the stairs.

He grinned and flopped down on my bed as I began to unpack, not bothering to offer his services. "Sorry about that little spat back there, Canada," he said.

I shook my head. "It's fine."

He sighed. "I just…I don't know, I feel like he's trying to keep me chained down with a bunch of empty threats. It's like he doesn't want me to grow up at all." America stared up at the ceiling blankly. "Hopefully with you here he'll loosen the reins a little bit."

I nodded. "Hopefully."

We sat in the silence for a bit, me unpacking my things, America watching me. Unexpectedly, I turned to him. "America?"

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Does anyone ever…forget your name…or act like they can't see you…or hear you?"

He looked at me oddly. "No, why? Do people do that to you?"

I nodded, utterly ashamed at the fact that I seemed to be the only one in the family who never got noticed.

He frowned. "Well, maybe if you learned to be a little louder…and you gotta start voicing your opinions, Canada. People won't notice you if all you do is whisper and agree."

I sighed. "Maybe I'm just not important enough."

America hopped off the bed and grabbed me by the shoulders. I stared at him, startled. "Promise me one thing Canada," he growled. I nodded helplessly. "Promise me that you will never, ever, _ever _forget that you are my brother, and that makes you the most important person in the world."

I sat there, feeling his nails digging into my shoulders harder the longer I didn't answer. Finally, I whispered, "I promise."

He shook his head. "No, I want you to say it in French so that it means something to you."

"_Je promets que je n'oublierai jamais que je suis ton frère, et que moi la personne la plus importante dans le monde en fait_." Saying it in French gave me confidence, and I smiled at America.

He smiled back, obviously pleased. "See, now it means more. And every time you feel like you're not important enough, I want you to repeat that."

I nodded happily, secure in the knowledge that my little brother would always be around to cheer me up.


	4. America's Independence

America's Independence: 1776

"I fucking hate you Dad! I wish you had never found me!" I screamed into the face of my father.

He stared wordlessly for a minute, then slapped me hard across the cheek. I shook my head.

"No."

He raised one of those monstrosities he called eyebrows.

"Not this time," I said. "This isn't gonna be like all the other times where you hit me and I shut up and took it. I'm done with your shit."

I punched him in the face, feeling my knuckles connect satisfyingly with his jaw, before running upstairs and throwing open the door to the room I shared with my brother. Well, not anymore.

He looked up at me, startled. "Are you alright America?" he whispered.

I grinned at him, determined to not show him how exhausted and scared I was. "I'm fine, Canada. Me and England agreed that it's finally time for me to move out."

He opened his mouth to reply, but that British bastard's voice cut him off. "ALFRED F. JONES I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BLOODY ARSE DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT I WILL COME UP THERE AND SKIN YOU ALIVE!"

My eyes widened with what could have been delight or fear, depending on how well you knew me. Canada knew damn well I was scared shitless, however, so he quickly gestured for me to grab as much stuff as I could and climb out the window while he distracted the Queen's bitch. I hugged him briefly, just to show my appreciation, before grabbing a bag I had packed a week before and getting my American ass the hell out of that shithole.

It was only once I was on a ship back to my real home that I realized I had left my timid older brother alone with a drunk and angered England.

My head dropped between my knees and my stomach lurched, but it wasn't from seasickness.


	5. Canada's Independence

Canada's Independence: 1867

"I'm sorry, Arthur," I murmured.

The tiny man shook his head belligerently. "No, you're the good one, Canada, you're not going to leave me all alone."

I reached out and gently tugged the bottle of whiskey from his hand. "It's time I become independent, Arthur. I'm sorry."

The drunken Brit shook his head so hard I was afraid it might come off. "No, Canada, you're the quiet one, you're the good kid. You won't leave Daddy England by himself." He reached out and stroked my face with his sweaty hand. I shuddered.

"You're drunk, Arthur. And you're not my father. France is, remember?"

He looked around in a daze. "Where is that bloody frog anyway?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Arthur, but you're drunk and I'm leaving."

The last part got through. The tiny man fell to his knees, hands clasped as if in prayer. "Please don't leave me Canada, you can't just take off. I promise I'll stop drinking, I'll let you see Francis whenever you like. If you leave then I'm going to be all alone—"

"I'm sorry," I repeated for the third and final time. "It's too late for change, Arthur."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and picked up Kumajirou. With a final, sorrowful look at Arthur, I stepped out of that circle of Hell. For good.


	6. Sealand's Creation

Creation of Sealand: 1942

I woke up to a voice saying, "Arthur, zis is a terrible idea. 'Ow is a sunken ship in ze middle of nowhere going to 'elp us against ze Axis?"

A laugh, rather maniacal. "You'll see, Francis, you'll see. But first, we have to find him."

A loud sigh. "Arthur, is zis about ze fact zat Al and Mattie are doing ok wizzout us? Is zat why you are dead set on finding anozzer child?"

"NO!" came the instant reply. "It has nothing to do with Alfred and Matthew, absolutely nothing!" Suddenly, the piece of wood in front of me was moved, and sunlight poured into the small box I was holed up in. A face appeared, the delicate nose and mouth only made even more delicate by the ginormous eyebrows that his bangs couldn't conceal. I looked past Eyebrow to see a taller, leaner man with golden blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes. He stared at me in shock. Well, not _at_ me really, more like, at my forehead…

My mouth dropped open in horror as I raised my hand to my forehead and felt two bushy _things_ resting where my eyebrows should have been. The man immediately in front of me clapped his hands with delight.

"He's got my looks! Oh, he's going to be such a joy. I'm going to teach him how to cook, how to be a proper gentleman, how to take out a Frenchman who won't stop hitting on you…" He danced away, giddy with glee, while I stared up at the other man, pleading him to end my life now. He looked down at me sympathetically, but communicated with his eyes that he couldn't do jack. I sighed and looked around, trying to find an object that could be used for suicide…or homicide…

Eyebrow ran back over to me. "Your name is Sealand, darling, AKA Peter Kirkland, AKA my son!"

I stared at him in disbelief. This man…this man was my father?! As if living with caterpillars for eyebrows wasn't bad enough, all I had to look forward to was ending up looking like him?

I groaned loudly, and he laughed. "Oh don't worry, dear, as soon as we get home I'll cook you up a fantastic meal!" I shifted, contemplating the thought. If this guy was a decent chef then maybe I wouldn't end up swinging from a rope after all. I opened my mouth to say "yes," but the taller guy jumped in.

"I zink Peter would appreciate it if we took 'im out to a nice restaurant on 'is first night, _oui, Angleterre_?" he suggested. I looked at Eyebrow for a reaction, then almost burst out laughing. His face was turning beet red and the veins in his temples were unhealthily large.

"And _what _the bloody hell is wrong with my cooking Francis?" he growled.

"Yeah," I chimed in. "What _is_ wrong with his cooking?"

Francis looked at me with pity in his cerulean eyes. "Arthur can't cook. Period. If he tries, ze fire department ends up getting called."

I grinned and look back at Arthur. "Sounds like we're gonna have takeout a lot, right Dad?"

He glared at me. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with my bloody cooking. And you sound just like your brother."

I frowned. "Who's my brother?"

"Alfred F. Jones. AKA ze United States of America. AKA ze zird largest country in ze world, if you go by land mass. Also ze zird largest if you go by population," Francis answered.

I grinned instantly. "So he, like, became independent and then got all this land and all these people and shit? Sounds like a pretty awesome dude."

Arthur's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull. "Watch your bloody language, Peter. And America is not awesome in any way shape or form. He is a bloody twat and I can't believe I raised someone so classless."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. So, do I have any other siblings?"

France smiled. "Only a stepbrozzer, Canada. 'Is name is Matthew. He's ze second largest country in ze world by land mass."

I laughed. "So basically, if I deal with Eyebrow for a couple decades, then declare my independence, I'll become one of the biggest countries in the world?"

Arthur grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away before France could say anything more. Looked like this was going to be a fun couple of decades.


End file.
